Crazier Than You
by Werepuppy Black
Summary: The Dracula family are to have visitors who are entirely their sort of people. Of course, this makes them increasingly strange to normal people, but normal is relative and these breathers have a passion for the dark.
1. A Visit From Some Dear Friends

_**A/N:**__ While this is under the category of the movie, I tried to use a good mix of the 60's/90's sitcoms, the movies, and the musical to flesh out the dear Addamses. Title taken entirely from the musical, and while cheesy, it feels a good fit for the fic. The Young Dracula portion of the fic comes from early series 3, though whereabouts exactly would be hard to pin-point._

* * *

><p><strong>Crazier Than You<strong>

**Chapter 1: A Visit From Some Dear Friends**

The letter arrived in a fit of black smoke, causing the Count to laugh uproariously, and answer it straight away. Since this rarely happened, it drew everyone's attention. Even Bertrand's, though he acted otherwise. "Hm? Oh that, just a little … trifling matter," was the Count's only response. Didn't quite wipe the knowing smirk from his face though, and when he announced a week later that their honoured guests where due to arrive, Vlad and Ingrid exchanged a set of glances that proved that not a lot could stop them from being the long-suffering sibling spawn of Dracula. The last time the Count announced the arrival of honoured guests... well, they managed to get all the blood off the ceiling _eventually_. Erin had looked questioningly at Vlad, but received a shrug in return. Until the Count told them otherwise, he was as much in the dark as she was.

The honoured guests arrived the Wednesday after and Vlad couldn't help but later look back and laugh on the odd appropriateness of that day. "Count Dracula!" Gomez Addams called happily, arms outstretched in a warm greeting. "Come on old man, it's been far too long!" he said, clapping the Count's hand and shaking it in that friendly but forceful manner only an Addams could manage.

"Far too long," the Count agreed readily, showing a pointed smile. "We really should have made it back one summer, but what can I say? The pickings on this little island..." he trailed off, into a throaty laugh that had Ingrid muttering curses under her breath, looking back into the gloom of the school waiting so invitingly, and Vlad rolling his eyes from his position of leaning against the wall. Erin shifted uncomfortably, and Wolfie... Wolfie was oblivious, running up to his sister with a stick, waiting on her to throw it for him. Bertrand was stiffer than usual, Vlad noticed from the corner of his eye, and it became apparent why very quickly after.

A dark beauty stepped forward, tiny steps in the hobble dress that Ingrid eyed in her critical but appreciative manner. "Cousin Bertrand," she smiled without showing her teeth. "You missed the family reunion," she reproached gently. Bertrand gave an expression that would have suggested a slight colouring. Were he anyone other than Bertrand, that is.

"Cousin Morticia," he greeted with an incline of his head. "I was... detained. By the Grand High Council," he offered as explanation.

Morticia gave a nod, understanding, and turned her gaze upon Vlad, Ingrid, and Erin – Wolfie had run over and attached himself to the Count when Morticia had come over to speak to Bertrand. "Ingrid, you're looking absolutely deadly," she said warmly, pressing her finger tips together. Ingrid gave a smirk, pleased to be the first greeted for once.

"I do try," she replied smugly. "You look like you haven't slept in months," she said. Erin paled.

"Ingrid, I don't think-"

"Why, thank you darling," Morticia smiled again. "But you're too kind, I'm sure it looks like I haven't slept in only _days_." She turned to look at Erin, inspecting her slightly. "Such a pale thin face," she said. "Yes, she is a charming little thing," she added, smiling that odd smile once more. "A charming pet, Ingrid, I'm sure she makes the most dreadful lover." Erin spluttered, her pale cheeks flushing just slightly at the words. Ingrid didn't say anything to this, just held a smirk in place. Morticia turned to Vlad. "We've been hearing so much about you," she said to him.

"It's all lies," Vlad responded, his mouth pulling up at the corner. Morticia's smile grew a tiny bit. There was a noise of a trigger being pulled and Vlad only _just_ managed to grab the crossbow bolt before it pierced his chest. He looked up, to see Wednesday lowering her crossbow, a scowl on her face. No change there. An easy smirk appeared on Vlad's face. There was a laugh from Ingrid.

"You remember Wednesday, don't you Vlad?" Morticia said, looking between the two. Vlad went over to the girl, who regarded him silently. There was a moment, before she held out her hand. Vlad laughed softly, handing back the bolt and grinning.

"'Course I do," he replied. "Long time, Wed," he said sincerely. Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, he lifted her hand, dropping a kiss on it.

"You're trying to be a gentleman," Wednesday said.

"Yes."

"Don't."

Vlad laughed.

**xXx**

Vlad and Wednesday had went off on their own after they'd all been brought into the Dracula private quarters, and Erin couldn't help but feel, well, _jealous_ she supposed. Vlad was, well, they were... Okay, so it was a little more complicated than she'd like but she had thought she and Vlad were sort of meant to be dating, and now he was going off with the daughter of the weirdest family she'd met. Well, okay, weirdest _breather_ family she'd met, but considering that they'd claimed Bertrand was their cousin, she wasn't entirely sure they were all breather.

"So, um, what's the deal? I thought you didn't like breathers?" Erin asked Ingrid. She was still sort of smarting from the assumption earlier made by Morticia, but thought that if she ignored it, that would be for the best. Ingrid looked up from her magazine, questioning. "I mean, I thought that vampires weren't allowed to … socialise with breathers. So how...?"

"Well, it's the Addams," Ingrid answered plainly. Erin continued to look confused, and Ingrid sighed irritably, placing her magazine down on the table. "The Addamses are a very old, established family. They're connected to all sort of brigands, scammers, pirates, thieves, con-men, you name it." She paused, leaning back slightly in her wooden chair. "The whole family has a passion for the dark that's really very vampiric. Anyway, the last Grand High Vampire was married to an Addams Matriarch."

"Oh," Erin blinked. "So... how do you know them?" By this point, Ingrid had resumed reading her magazine.

"The castle next to ours in Transylvania was their summer home," she said, "we used to … play … together as children," she added conversationally. "They've got an elder son – Pugsley – he's away training to be a Witch-Doctor. The one that's spending time with Wolfie is their youngest, Pubert."

"That sounds filthy," Erin muttered. She had forgotten about that fact that vampires had far better hearing than most.

"They thought so too." Ingrid said, sounding as if the comment was a compliment. Erin stared for a moment, before shaking her head. There was silence for a few moments, as Erin tried to work out exactly what it was she wanted to say. She couldn't really put it all into words, they just seemed to get jumbled up and stuck at the back of her throat.

"So, Vlad and Wednesday...?"

"She kept trying to kill him, he somehow found it endearing," Ingrid sounded irritated at being constantly interrupted. She looked up, and saw the worried expression on Erin's face, and couldn't help but smirk at it."You don't need to get _jealous_, Erin. Wednesday's an Addams, they've been using arranged marriages since... well, since always," she said. Erin gave a shaky smile, and stood quickly.

"I'm just going to … go," she said, leaving the room. Ingrid smirked.

"How transparent," she muttered to herself, picking up the magazine again. A thought entered her mind, causing her to send it slamming back down on to the table. "No, they _wouldn't_ do that, would they?"

**xXx**

The moon was full, and Vlad and Wednesday were moon-bathing on the roof.

"They sent you to _camp_, seriously?" Vlad's voice was incredulous, totally unable to believe what Wednesday was telling him. "Camp? You?"

"Uncle Fester was getting married," she explained. "To Debbie, she was our Nanny. She died though. Died an Addams death." He looked at her. "Yes, she also happened to be a psychopath who tried to kill us all to get the money." There was a pause, and Vlad turned away, a soft laugh coming from his as he did so.

"Sounds more like it," he said, grinning. Wednesday rolled her eyes, and smacked his arm – unusually lightly all things considered. There was a few moments of companionable silence, before Vlad spoke. "So, I almost killed Ingrid and Dad," he told her. She looked over, staring unblinkingly. "There was this thing, and I got taken over by my thousand evil reflections and... yeah, tried to kill them." A beat. "Obviously, it didn't work, I regained control, but still."

"You always did choke at the last," Wednesday scoffed lightly. "To think; you finally found your blood-lust, and I missed it." There was a tone almost like annoyance in Wednesday's voice, but Vlad knew better than to suggest such a thing to the girl. She had a habit of carrying daggers on her, and that would lead to slightly discomforting thoughts about where she might be hiding one right now. Vlad had long realised he'd be glad when puberty was finally done with him. "I always said you would destroy them within a day."

"Within an hour, please," Vlad rolled his eyes. Wednesday looked at him.

"Stop trying to sound impressive," she warned. "How is Cousin Bertrand getting on with your tutoring?" she asked, genuinely curious despite herself. "He seemed far more sullen when we spoke," she added, "it must be dreadful for him here."

"He seems to be enjoying himself, yeah," Vlad agreed, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "He knows the facts, and right now, I need those. If any of the clans turn against me, I'll have assassins after me." Wednesday's face gained a very sinister smirk.

"How thrilling."

**xXx**

The following day, and all the young vampires had to attend classes, Wednesday following Vlad like a growth. This meant Bertrand _couldn't_ follow him around, which seemed to annoy him slightly. Having said that, at least it was his young Cousin doing the following, and not that half-fang so his anger was eased. The group, such as it was, did draw a lot of attention from their fellow Garside Grangers. Well, actually, it was Wednesday who drew all the attention. She was rather like her mother when it came to the fact that people found it hard to look away from her.

Vlad would have told them this was a good policy; looking away gives her an opening.

"Who's the Goth?" Becky asked Erin, when she separated from the group to go an speak with her friend. Becky eyed Wednesday up and down, taking a sip of her Coke in a manner that somehow managed to express jealously, annoyance, and curiosity all at once. "How come Vlad's letting her... hang all over him like that?" Erin glanced back. Wednesday wasn't 'hanging over' Vlad, there was a more than respectable distant between the pair. Besides which, Erin couldn't see Wednesday as the type to hang over someone. Now, _hanging_ someone... well, that was a different story. "Thought you two were back on?" Becky's voice broke into Erin's thoughts.

"Oh, um," she began, "yeah, I'm not... I don't know what's going on, exactly." It wasn't technically a lie, Erin really didn't know what was going on between her and Vlad any more. "It's complicated, I guess," she shrugged, hitching her bag up her shoulder as she did. Becky looked at her serious for just a moment, before flicking her hair over her shoulder, taking another drink from the open can.

"Whatever, I reckon you're well shot of him." She turned to look at the pair, heads bent closely together as they spoke, walking up the corridor. "He's clearly got no taste." There was a pause. "Come on, we've got double Chemistry," she turned, heading towards the science block. Erin took a second to glance back. Ingrid was busy with her group of admires, and Vlad and Wednesday had already gone. She frowned once more, pulling on the straps of her bag. "Well, come on!" Becky called back.

With a sigh, Erin turned and followed.

**xXx**

Morticia and Gomez were taking tea with the Count and the infinitely charming Miss Alex McCauley in the Count's office. He had explained to him how the people referred to him as Mr. Count here, and they had both on the strain of hidden fondness when he was telling them about Alex McCauley. Morticia, having now met the woman in question, would have to agree. Infinitely charming, not to mention extremely no-nonsense. Something Morticia could admire, especially from a women in the professions. "You say you met in Transylvania, Mrs Addams?" Miss McCauley inquired politely.

"Oh yes," Morticia placed her teacup down carefully on the saucer – such finely chipped china was hard to come by. "Yes, we had the neighbouring castle. Such a dreary little place," she said in an exceedingly fond tone. "So many wonderful summers spent there." She looked over at Miss McCauley. To her credit, the women simply smiled back.

"And Wednesday, she would be?"

"Our only daughter." Miss McCauley recognised the look Morticia was wearing now, having seen it in many parents; pride in one's child was an admirable quality. "She and Vlad were such dear playmates as children, it's good to see them getting along so nicely now, after such a long period of absence." There was a pause, and Morticia continue, though far quieter, and in a manner which made it obvious it was not meant to be heard by others, but that she couldn't stop herself from saying it. "Of course, if that woman didn't keep betraying her family, I'm sure it wouldn't be quite so long."

And with that, Morticia Addams went up several places in Alex McCauley's regard. Of course, it didn't change the fact that her daughter was encouraging some of the more unpleasant aspects of Vlad's personality, but she did have to admit that she'd never seen the boy so... so happy as he was with the young Miss Addams around. If only she didn't encourage him to chaos.

"No, really old man, computers!" Gomez's voice grew louder as he spoke to the Count. "Fantastic investment, I bought stocks back in the 80's – they just keep making me money!" There was a pause, as Gomez chewed on the end of his cigar for a moment. "Madness, really."

"Really? Computers, you say?" Mr. Count sounded interested. He began searching through his desk. "Ah, Miss McCauley, didn't you put in a request for funds for new computers?" He said loudly, continuing to look through the papers, to find the request form. It took a few moments of frantic searching, before he found the form, crumpled and only slightly torn at the corners. "Ah yes, here we go!"

"You're going to release the funds?" Miss McCauley sounded incredulous. "But I've been asking for months now-"

"Yes, well," the Count cut in, not really wanting to be shown up in front of the Addamses. "Well, perhaps I was a bit hasty, yes? How much would be needed to fit one of those computer lab things?" he asked. Miss McCauley blinked, placed her cup and saucer carefully down on the table, before moving round to speak to him quietly. Gomez and Morticia exchanged similar looks. Ah, new love.

**xXx**


	2. In Which People Talk

_**A/N:**__Apologies for this taking so long. I must admit, originally, I was planning to leave this fic as just a one-shot, but ideas for developing it into a multi-chapter piece came to mind, and I've been slowly working on it. Hopefully, people will like it, and... yes, that's about it. Again, sorry for taking so long, and thank you for all the lovely reviews so far!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: In Which People Talk<strong>

Vlad was skipping class; a practice that he did not normally partake in, today was a very special exception. He had tried to pay attention to Mr. Henthorn, but the man just had this annoying ability to drone on and on, and Wednesday was getting bored and she was only _holding_ her penknife, she wasn't actually going to use it. More's the pity, Vlad thought those boys deserved being properly scared at the very least. Since she had appeared in the school wings that morning, Wednesday hadn't been able to take a step without getting attention somehow, mostly from the more _cool_ boys. They preened, and posed, and really Vlad's inner psycho wasn't wrong when he pointed out that in some cases gutting was really too good.

And there was a strong part of the reason that Vlad had chosen to skip class. It wasn't as though the evil reflections had disappeared because he could always feel them brimming below the surface, but he thought he had control of them. Yet every time they made a comment, he found himself inclined to agree, especially if the comment had anything to do with Wednesday or what she could do for some of the stupid bloodba - No! He didn't have those types of thoughts; people are friends, not food, and besides which Wednesday didn't need him being the overprotective childhood friend, she was _Wednesday Addams_. Even higher level demons feared her.

"You're quiet," Wednesday said, staring at Vlad unblinkingly. Her eyes were a very intense sort of grey-green, he noted, the type of eyes that would look on calmly as you burned to a cinder in front of them. "You don't suit brooding, Vlad. You're far too aware of the majority of your psychological issues for it too really work," she added in a dismissive comment that brought a laugh out of Vlad without him realising it had done so. They sat in companionable silence once again, Wednesday fidgeting with her pen knife once more.

"Wed? Why did your family chose now to visit?" Vlad asked finally, breaking the silence. Wednesday turned her gaze on him, a slight frown only barely apparent on her face. "Not that it's not great to see you, you know I love hanging out with you," he assured her, "but it's just... It's been four years, Wednesday, so why now?" Wednesday continued to play with the pen knife, before sighing angrily, driving it into the fake wooden table top.

"I'm at the age were Mother, Grand-mama, and Aunt Ophelia are starting to look out potential husbands for me," she explained. Vlad gave a blank look. "The Addamses have a long and proud tradition of arranged marriages, and since I have no plans for continuing in education," she rolled her eyes – Wednesday considered education to be a sort of sexual disease, you picked it up unwillingly and couldn't help passing it on - "they see no problem in trying to arrange a marriage earlier than they had estimated." There was another pause.

"So, is this your way of telling me I'm supposed to be getting married to you?" Vlad ventured.

"No, you're not on the list."

"Oh. Why not?" Vlad managed to sound indignant and petulant all at once, and neither sat well with Wednesday, who shot him a glare that had him looking towards the ground, and wishing it would open up underneath him. "It's just … I mean …" he paused, forcing himself not to sound like he did when he was 9, trying to explain to Pugsley just _why_ it was his sister had announced that they had engaged in the sacred Addams blood rites that meant they were now bonded. They _hadn't_, but Wednesday wanted to see what colour Pugsley would turn if he thought his little sister had beaten him to engage someone in the blood rites.

"Because you're going to be the Grand High Vampire, and Grand-mama pointed out you will likely have a political match for your first wife," Wednesday pointed out. Vlad scowled. He'd forgotten about that. Well, not forgotten so much as deliberately did not think on it as he was meant to be dating Erin. Which was a big meant to be, because lately everything seemed a bit more... wishy-washy that it had before the whole 'going crazy evil with all the reflections' incident, and they hadn't really had the opportunity to sit and talk about any of it. He supposed he kept putting it off. "But, perhaps," Wednesday was continuing to speak and Vlad quickly directed his attention back to her. He knew better, after all. "Perhaps you've pointed out the way out of our problems."

Vlad blinked. "...Come again?"

xXx

"Why would they be visiting now?" Ingrid strode into the training room without so much as a by-your-leave, which irritated Bertrand. His grip on the kendo stick relaxed, as he turned to the eldest of the Dracula children. He knew that really, he had no place to be getting irritated, but some things happen regardless of wanting them to or not. It was a fact of both life and unlife. "Well? Are you going to answer my question, or are you just going to stand there with that gormless look on your face?" Ingrid rolled her eyes, folding her arms.

Bertrand inclined his head. "Well, it has been four years," he had always been quick on the uptake, it was one of many reasons contributing to his landing such a position at such a young age. "Cousin Morticia is always one for recalling dreary memories and the misery they bring," There was a pause. If Bertrand were a lesser vampire, he would shrug to show his indifference at this moment. "If there is an ulterior motive," his eyes flickered up, noting that while Ingrid's face was impassive, her stance had become slightly more defensive, how interesting, "I would not think that it would be as … simple as what you might imagine it to be."

"So you think there's a chance?" Ingrid seized upon this area of the conversation, stepping forward with a determined look upon her face. "It might not have been their main intention, but everyone knows how," she paused, a twist in her mouth appearing as she spoke, "_fortunate_ members of the Addams family are when it comes to fortuitous marriages." Her eyebrow raised, as she lifted her chin. Bertrand idly mused that, despite being the elder Dracula and the arguable model for what a vampire should be, Ingrid had no where near the skill of Vlad for hiding the intentions in her words.

"I would think that it was unlikely that the match would not have been a discussion at some point between your Father and Gomez and Morticia," Bertrand's answer was diplomatic, and Ingrid bristled at it. She much preferred straight answers, rather than people trying to be clever with their words. "The families are, after all, old friends, and it has been many years since there was a marriage to join them," Bertrand looked down to the kendo stick again, turning it round in his hands. "In all respects, it would seem to be a smart match." There was a pause.

"Please, the breather lover marrying Wednesday Addams?" Ingrid gave a very pointed look. "It'd be like he'd won the lottery, and came into a huge inheritance all on the same day." She waved her hand dismissively. "That's not my point here; that's _not_ what they're here for, right?" Ingrid's look grew more pointed, and Bertrand turned away, placing the stick down, as he came to the realisation that he wouldn't get back to his training tonight. "Well?"

"No," he answered. "It's not." He turned to face Ingrid again. "My Cousins are well aware of the fact that Vlad will be required, in his role as Grand High Vampire, to marry from one of the prominent bloodlines." Ingrid's look had moved from him.

"They might be aware of it," she said, "but do you think Wednesday will listen to the expectations of some old coffin fillers?"


	3. In Which Dinner is Had

_**A/N:**__ Yes, short but new chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: In Which Dinner is Had<strong>

Dinner that night was to be a grand affair; and Renfield had been set to work from ridiculously early that morning. Only the finest road kill stew and ocelot for such honoured guests of the Dracula family. There were standards to maintain, after all. Henbane tea had been set to brew all afternoon, and the Count sent for the finest wines and bloods from the cellar. Standards, after all, must be kept. Or, as Erin secretly suspected, he just wanted that chance to show off and prove that despite their now seemingly reduced circumstances, living above a school, the family was still incredibly affluent. At least, that was how Erin was explaining it in her mind. She could be incredibly wrong, of course, but she somehow doubted it. Especially considering that they were all told to dress accordingly for the situation. Fortunate then, that she had a dress that wasn't too shabby in her opinion, and would be nice for a dinner.

When the dinner gong was sounded – and yes, she did find that pretentious thank you for asking – Erin made hr way to the dining area where everyone else would be gathering. Ingrid was dressed to the nines, of course, and Erin felt that familiar stab of jealousy. It wasn't that she was particularly into the Gothic look that Ingrid could pull off so easily, but it was more the fact that she could pull it off so easily, and look completely in her element doing it. That confidence was enviable. "Hi Ingrid," she smiled, slipping into the chair besides her. "Not seen you since earlier," she commented.

"Hm, well, I've been... busy," Ingrid said, idly tapping her knife off of the table. She glanced at Erin, and there seemed to be something on her mind, judging by the ponderous look on her face. Whatever it was, she opted to say something about it. "Erin," Ingrid started. She was interrupted by the arrival of Vlad and Wednesday, who sat besides each other at the table. "Worm Bait, Wednesday" Ingrid greeted with a tight smile, eyes narrowing to judge the distance between them.

The Addamses, it turned out, regularly ate the type of meals Renfield produced, and declared him to be a culinary genius, asking the Count how much it would take to steal him away. Renfield tittered. "No, no," he said in a jovial tone, "I'm loyal to my Master. He's the best Master a drooling drudge like me could ever hope to ask for," he added in a simpering tone, turning to the Count with fluttering eyelashes. It was quite a sight. The Count, for his part, simply rolled his eyes.

"Yes, well, get out!"

"Of course, Master."

Renfield finished serving up the meals, and scurried off. After a toast - entirely for show – they were invited to dig in and enjoy their meals. Erin discreetly pushed at the dead meat on her plate, and wondered how long she could push it around tonight before someone caught her out for not eating. She made a mental note to jump to the local 24 hour supermarket, and pick up some more of the vegetarian suitable meals. She had forgotten to do it, what with the visitors arriving, and the sick feeling in her stomach was a sharp reminder as to how much she did not eat meat.

"Wednesday," Morticia's voice drew Erin from her meal time musings and pushing of the meal around her plate, and she looked up. Morticia sipped from a glass of blood red wine – and Erin was sure it was wine and not blood because it moved far smoother than blood did – and glanced over at her daughter with a wide smile. Her smiles never showed her teeth though, Erin mused, and wondered why that was. Fangs? They were related to Bertrand, after all. "What is that, on your hand?"

Erin's head snapped round. Wednesday glanced down at her hand."Oh," she said in her emotionless tone, lifting her hand to better show her mother. On her ring finger shone a large silver ring, embellished with a familiar looking crest. Erin's stomach sank, and she wondered at once how she hadn't seen it before. "Mother, Father, I have news to tell you." Vlad fiddled with his knife and fork, looking down at his plate and deliberately not up at anyone. "Vladimir proposed."

Erin wondered if you could vomit when you hadn't eaten that day.


	4. Some Explaining to Do

A/N: I know, quick new chapter. Faster than I expected, but eh.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Some Explaining to Do<strong>

The glass bottle was nothing particularly impressive to look at. There were far nicer looking bottles in Renfield's own kitchen, if it was simply something shiny that the children were looking for, something to distract themselves. It was the contents of the bottle that had both boys looking at it as though it were their most precious treasure. In some small way, perhaps that would be the correct description to give the contents.

"It's called Acrimonium," Pubert informed Wolfie with a sly grin. "Grandmama says it will show the true dark self of anyone," there was awe in his tone as he spoke. Wolfie's own eyes widened, looking at the small, dark, glass bottle that Pubert held. "Only the tiniest drop is needed to do it," there was gleeful malice in Pubert's tone, and Wolfie grinned widely at it. "One drop, and then no one can hide from who they really are, or the darkness inside them." There was a beat. "Isn't that just the coolest?"

"It really is!" Wolfie agreed, reaching out to touch the bottle with his fingertips. He bit his bottom lip, musing for a moment. "Vlad could use this." Off of Pubert's look, Wolfie gave a shrug. "He's too... He's not what Uncle Count thought his son would be like," he said finally. "Ingrid said he's a breather lover, but I don't think we're meant to love breathers." He worried the bottom lip some more. Frowning as he recalled his sister's description of their brother. "But then... he's not all that nice," Wolfie added. "He's sneaky like them, but I don't think they notice it."

"Acrimonium would help there," Pubert agreed, nodding. "It could show his true vampire side to your whole family," he explained further, "then they'd see he was as sneaky as them, right?" Wolfie pondered this for a moment, before giving a heavily shaking nod of his head. Pubert gave his own smart nod in return. "Then s'simple, isn't it?" Wolfie blinked. According to Uncle Count, he was smarter than your average pup, but he didn't seem to have Pubert's quick planning skills. Pubert laughed, and shook the bottle deliberately, nodding knowingly.

"Ooh," Wolfie gave a wide grin as it became clear to him. "Good plan."

* * *

><p>"You proposed?" Erin's voice seemed to have a level of shriek that Vlad hadn't thought capable from breathers. The younger members of the current inhabitants of the Dracula quarters had quickly excused themselves after Wednesday's announcement Well, more to the point, Erin had bolted from the table, with Vlad following after a moment's pause. Wednesday had followed when he left, and amused, Ingrid tagged along. Erin was not pleased to see the hangers-on, but she was too irate to think about it properly. "You <em>proposed<em> to _her_?!" She gave a loud, hysterical laugh. "Might have escaped your notice, Vlad, but I'm meant to be your girlfriend. _Me_! Not some … Goth girl!"

"Eloquent," Wednesday commented dryly. Erin shot her a scathing look.

"Why don't you just shut up," she snapped at the other girl. "I was talking to _my__boyfriend_, not to you," Erin growled the last, turning a furious glare on Vlad. For his part, Vlad seemed to be carefully ignoring the whole situation looking to the ground, and pulling at the sleeve on his suit jacket, and no, Erin wasn't happy he'd chosen to wear his best suit for this girl. She was justified in her anger today, she felt, after all, her boyfriend was going to marry someone else. "Vlad! She snapped again, moving forward to slap him only to be quailed by the seemingly non ending death stare that Wednesday had long perfected.

"If you would be quiet for long enough to allow the air to return to your brain, we could explain," Wednesday said in that monotone of hers that Erin was growing to detest. What did she even mean by 'explain'? Explain who she had seduced Erin's boyfriend away with dark witchy powers? Erin wouldn't put it past her. "I have no desire to marry," Wednesday said. "Be it to Vladimir," she gave him a respectful nod, which he returned, "or to anyone. He is well aware of this."

"And I'm not exactly rushing to find myself a bride," Vlad cut in. "But, if a betrothal is made..." he trailed off, giving a shrug of his shoulders. Ingrid looked impressed.

"Clever, little brother," she said, before glancing at Wednesday. "Though your work, I assume?" Wednesday nodded, and Ingrid gave her own nod of approval. "Well, it seems like you've put a lot of thought into it or," she paused, and gave a half shrug, "at least more thought than usual." She glanced backwards at Erin, then to Wednesday, before finally back at Vlad. "So, you know if this goes wrong – which, being your plan it might – she'll be killed?"

"If it goes wrong," Vlad said, "I'm willing to make sure she won't be."

* * *

><p>By the time everyone came back to the dinner table, Erin's bad mood was still present. The plan, such as it was, had been explained to her, but that didn't mean she had to like any of this. It was entirely too risky, and as the only one of them who had actually carried through an entirely risky plan, she knew what she was talking about. But still, she took her seat and and bit her tongue. Though not literally. The Count was looking decidedly pleased.<p>

"Well then," he clapped his hands together in a far too jovial manner. "This calls for a toast; our families will be joined at last! Renfield!" Renfield came bustling in, followed by Pubert and Wolfie, who both made a grand show of helping him out, much to Morticia's delight. Erin saw Wednesday roll her eyes at the boys antics and reminded herself that she wasn't allowed to stab the girl with her bread knife. Not while they were still at the table at any rate. Once everyone had received a glass of whatever vintage was at their tastes, the Count stood. "A toast!" He announced grandly, lifting his goblet in the direction of Vlad and Wednesday. "May their lives together be less than perfect. To the unhappy couple!"

"The unhappy couple!" was the repeat. Everyone drank, and the Count retook his seat.

"Really, Vladdy," he scolded his son in a good natured manner. "You should have told me you were planning this." He leant back grandly in his throne. "After all, what I am if not an expert of the female heart." Erin wasn't the only one who gave a disbelieving snort, but Ingrid managed to hide hers far better than Erin did. "Well, how did you do it, Vladdy my boy?" Vlad didn't respond. "Vladimir?"

Erin felt fear clutch at her stomach as the evil laugh that haunted her nightmares echoed forth from Vlad.

"Yes, _Daddy_?"


	5. Crossbow

_**A/N:**__ Yeah, this is updating faster than I thought. I keep getting ideas_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Crossbow<strong>

Seeing Vlad coming under the control of his thousand or so evil reflections was not something that either the Count or Ingrid particularly wanted to have to explain to their visitors. It probably didn't help matters, however, that they both shot out of their chairs on hearing the laugh, driving a very evil looking smirk from Vlad. "Oh, Daddy, Sister dearest, do I scare you that much?" There was an innocence to what he was saying, it sounded almost musical. "How pleasant." Almost. He turned his head, and hissed deliberately at Erin, fangs elongated.

She bolted from her seat too, standing backwards behind her chair but holding her hands out in a defensive position. Vlad simply laughed. "Vlad, what's going on?" Erin managed to get out. She watched as he picked up his knife, seeing Gomez and Morticia shifting back, understanding somehow that this wasn't their usual type of knife play, that there was something more sinister at work. Wednesday have moved her chair slightly, but not much. Vlad began carving on to the table. "Vlad." Erin tried again.

The carving on the table was a beautiful picture, if you were into the kind of macabre designs the reflection-controlled version of Vlad was more inclined to putting out. The carvings were lightly done in to the table, just enough of a scraping of the dark top to provide images of the slightly lighter underneath. Erin glanced backwards at Ingrid, before edging closer, looking over at the carving. It wasn't exactly a work of art, but it was clear enough to see the intention, and again, beautiful in an extremely disturbing manner. The carving showed everyone in the room lying flat, their limbs all twisted into directions Erin was positive they couldn't turn to naturally.

"It's my vision for the future, Erin," Vlad said to her. There was a dark gleam in his eyes, and his fangs were still out when he looked up at her with a dark chuckle. "Isn't it just to die for?" No one could blame Erin for stumbling back the way she did. No one could blame her for the chilled fear running around the pit of her stomach. Not if they saw Vlad the way he was. There was a thudding noise, and Erin saw from the corner of her eye the Count closing the door behind himself. She was alone in the room with Vlad. And Wednesday. Who currently looked bored. Fantastic.

There was another loud thumping as the door was flung open. Bertrand entered, a hard look on his face, raising a crossbow. Erin gasped. She knew he would turn on Vlad one day, but she didn't think she'd be glad for it happening. Her mind was a mess of conflicted emotions, and she wanted to turn to her heels and run, but at the same time she wanted to jump in front of Vlad, and protect him from his traitor of a tutor. "Bertrand," she gasped out, "what are you doing?"

Bertrand didn't answer, but Vlad looked up. He took in the crossbow silently, pushing his chair back and standing suddenly. "You're always going to be loyal to the wimp, aren't you, Bertrand?" He stepped forward menacingly, and Bertrand took a step backward. His jaw tightened, and he raised the crossbow higher, finger itching at the trigger. But he didn't set the flight loose. Vlad clicked his fingers, and the crossbow flew from Bertrand's hands. Vlad glanced at it, before tossing it sideways on to the table. Erin found her gaze drawn between it and the two vampires. She could get it, she could end this before Vlad did something he would regret.

"The spineless little loser begs you to dust him if he ever shows any sign of being capable of ruling," Vlad taunted Bertrand, who still hadn't responded, but was stepping backwards. Erin's gaze landed on him, her eyes narrowing. Wait, Vlad... had asked him to dust him if he ever got taken over by his reflections? That... made no sense! Why would Vlad ask that of Bertrand? Why couldn't he trust her with something like that? Why would he think something like that was even needed? "And what do you do? You give your _word_," Vlad was scoffing. "You know I'd be far more capable than him, and I would reward you greatly-"

An arrow from the crossbow flew past, grabbing strands of Vlad's hair in its flight. He turned, and snarled. Wednesday lowered the crossbow, looking completely unimpressed. "Are you done?"

"Breather!" Vlad hissed. "You dare -"

"Easily," Wednesday responded, setting another arrow into place and firing it off. "You are pathetic," she said, setting up once more, "You call this blood-lust? It's nothing more than an temper tantrum."

Vlad snarled, and grabbed Wednesday by the shoulders. "I'll show you blood-lust."


	6. Half Truths and Fangs

A/N: I can only apologise for this being short, but I'm sick. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Half Truths and Fangs<strong>

"I say, Dracula old boy," Gomez bit the end of his cigar, before puffing away in a hectic manner. "I wish you'd told us about your son's blood lust " He beamed manically, and Erin found herself wondering yet again just what these people actually were, because there was no way they were just breathers. "Marvelous really, they'll be such an unhappy couple!"

"Dreadfully miserable," Morticia gave that wide, closed mouth smile once again, before turning her head slightly to catch sight of Ingrid. Ingrid did not look happy, instead seeming on edge, glancing over towards the door every so often, and wrapping her cape around her shoulders, trying to hide any bit of exposed skin. While any type of neurotic behaviour was happily accepted by members of the Addams family as a sign of great character, Morticia was well aware of the fact that Ingrid was deadly confident, and did not believe in giving herself any weaknesses. A slight feeling of unpleasant dread built in he stomach and it wasn't the type that was so delicious she enjoyed.

"Yes, well," the Count was just as distracted as Ingrid, though he didn't glance at he door quite to much. He did seem quite focused on his fastening of his cape, however, as if he were trying to make sure that was all that was hanging from his neck. "Vlad is … his blood lust has to be seen to be believed," the Count settled on, managing a shaky smile. "We don't talk about it, bragging you know." Gomez nodded, understanding. Once again, Morticia felt as though something were off, and she just wasn't sure what it was.

Bertrand entered the room. "He took Wednesday." The Count looked shocked, and Ingrid rolled her eyes. "I know, he's out of his depth, but he's not thinking logically," he paused, and looked at both the Count and Ingrid, wanting to impress the importance of his words on them. "We might be able to use that." Ingrid stopped adjusting her cape, now satisfied it was covering her fully, and gave a nod, face set in a hard position.

Gomez and Morticia exchanged looks. They were deliberately being kept out of the loop on something very important. They suspected that if they asked directly they would only be given half truths, and distracted by something flippant as the subject was attempted to be immediately changed. Their reaction, of course, was exactly the same: what _good _hosts the Dracula's were. After all, where else could you expect to get that feeling of being watched and hated and everything you do being studied for clues to anything in such dreary locations? They should open a hotel; they'd make a killing.

* * *

><p>If Vlad had expected Wednesday to come along quietly, then it would have appeared that his evil self had none of the self preservation skills of his everyday self, without even mentioning the sheer lacking of common sense going on there. Wednesday Addams was not in any sense willing to be the typical victim of a vampire, no matter how evil that vampire thought himself, and thus fought every single step of the way. Which wasn't very long considering that Vlad had been using his vampiric speed to remove them from the Dracula quarters, but the point remained that Wednesday remained calm, and fought back.<p>

When they stopped, well, the fighting didn't stop them. Wednesday punched Vlad, and he punched her back. When she went to kick him, he caught her foot with one hand and sent it flying back to the ground but that made him unaware of the sharp right hook heading for his nose. He hissed in pain, recoiling and snarling at Wednesday who – annoyingly – didn't look as though she'd been fighting at all. Her skin was incredibly pale, flawlessly so, Vlad noted, his eyes darkening slightly just looking at it.

Wednesday spotted the darkening eyes, and smirk. She reached out, and gently took his hand. The gentleness of this action is what surprised Vlad. He looked down at the hand. It was not exactly smooth, but the feel of the roughness from years of crossbow use felt right and sent a pleasant shiver up Vlad's spine. He looked back up at Wednesday, and gave a fangy smirk. She smirked again, and placed her other hand on his wrist. She pulled, and flipped him over.

He pulled her on top of him and held tight.

His fangs sunk into her neck.


	7. Aftermath

A/N: To celebrate my finishing of my first exam today. Short but hey, exam zapped my creativity.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7- Aftermath<strong>

Vlad found himself waking up with the worse headache he had ever experience in his life. He's was also very aware of the fact that his shirt was buttoned up incorrectly, and his trousers were sitting an an uncomfortable angle. He clutched at his forehead, and groaned. "What happened last night?" he croaked, his throat feeling very raw that morning. His free hand moved to massage the throat, and he noticed dimly that it was covered in scratches. He blinked, stretching the hand slightly and hissing at the pain.

"You gave into your more vampiric self," Wednesday was straightening out the skirt on her dress, buttoning the cuffs and collars once more. Vlad wondered if he'd ever see her in proper disarray to which an odd image flashed in his mind that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. "The cubs spiked your soy blood with Acrimonium," she added an an explanation, having worked it out herself. Vlad ran his tongue over his teeth, and nodded at her.

"Explains the bitter taste," he said, grimacing as the taste settled at the back of his throat. He paused, frowning as another taste made itself known in his mouth. This one was far sweeter, richer, and full of … full of life. "Wednesday," Vlad said slowly, pushing himself into a sitting position on the floor. "Did I," he paused, unsure how to continue. "Last night, when I wasn't myself," he clarified, buying time before he actually said the words he was dreading a little, "did I … bite you?"

To answer, Wednesday pulled aside her collar, showing the bite marks. Vlad's vision tunnelled, and he brought his knees shakily up to hug against his chest. He had bitten someone. Worse. He had bitten _Wednesday Addams_. Oh blood, why wasn't he dust yet? Was she toying with him? "It won't turn me, of course," she said simply. "I'm an Addams," she gave a dismissive sniff. It would take far more than a simple bite to turn her, and she would resent an implication otherwise. Vlad nodded, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had bitten and drank from Wednesday, and the worst of it was that the taste in his mouth didn't make him feel sick. He felt full for the first time since he'd gone through the Change. He could still smell blood on the bite wound as well. "Get up," Wednesday commanded, "we need to go tell Mother and Father that the wedding will be happening."

Vlad nodded, and stood, going through the motions of making himself presentable. Then what Wednesday had said actually sunk in. "Wait, what?!"

* * *

><p>Erin sat in Ingrid's room. She hadn't slept all night, and it hadn't been safe to go back to her own room, what with the unrestrained Vlad flapping about the place. Bertrand had entered only a few minutes ago, and his grave expression told them that they hadn't had sight nor sound of Vlad and Wednesday yet. Erin was worried. Not for Wednesday, she had the distinct feeling that she could more than take care of herself, but she was worried for Vlad. If his unrestrained side had done something that Vlad wouldn't normally do, well, Erin didn't think it would be possible for Vlad to stand the guilt. "Do you," she started. Ingrid and Bertrand both turned to stare unblinkingly at her. She swallowed. "Do you think they're alright?"<p>

"Cousin Wednesday could scare the most frightening of demons into behaving," Bertrand said in such a matter of fact tone that Erin wondered if he had first hand knowledge of this happening previously. "She will be more than capable of looking after herself," just as Erin had thought. "And Vlad," he faltered, and Erin's head snapped round to look. Bertrand never faltered, not about his belief in what Vlad could do. He was the only person around who didn't.

"Vlad will either drive himself mad with guilt," Ingrid filled in, "or we'll be looking for an urn to rest his ashes in." Her voice was harsh and clipped, no sign of emotion in its tone, not even gloating that she'd be the default heir.

"Don't go searching for an urn just yet," Vlad said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. He didn't look as pale as usual, Erin noted as she flung herself into his arms. He was almost warm.

"Vlad!" Ingrid said, tilting her head. She exchanged glances with Bertrand, before turning to look at her little brother. "Something's different about you," she said. "You've got that … glow." There was a vague tinge of something in Ingrid's tone, but Erin couldn't work out what it was. She sniffed. "You've drank blood."

"No, he doesn't do that," Erin replied.

"Yeah," Vlad said, "I did."


	8. Some Explanations

"You... you drank blood?" Erin's voice seemed to stick in her throat, and speaking the words had the strange effect of physically hurting her. Her stomach clenched, and her heart pounded, and she found herself stepping backwards, away from the vampire she had been so sure was her nice, kind, _safe_, boyfriend. "But," she swallowed, finding it hard to force the words out, "you don't drink blood. You said yourself; drinking blood is just giving into the outdated vampire cliches that really need to be dusted if vampire kind has any hope of surviving in the world now." Ingrid and Bertrand both turned to look at Vlad after Erin's spiel. He gave a weak laugh.

"It's, erm, it's complicated," he said, wincing as he realised just how pathetic that sounded, even to his own ears. "It's, erm, Wolfie and Pubert. They spiked my soy blood with Acrimonium," he explained. Bertrand gave a nod of understanding, immediately accepting the explanation as correct, if only because he had made a point of studying the poison not so long ago. Ingrid took a moment, before letting out a soft noise, and rolling her eyes. Typical, he couldn't even do psychopathic interestingly. Erin continued to look confused.

"Acrimonium?" she asked.

"A poison," Bertrand was ever the tutor, speaking up smoothly to explain so that Vlad wouldn't have to. "It brings out a person's … inner darkness," he said, turning to look at Vlad with a curious expression on his face. "In this case, it allowed the reflections more of a chance to take over. You said you had them under control," he added, in a very pointed tone at Vlad.

"I do!" Vlad protested. "It's just … I've got them under control."

"So that's why a little bit of Acrimonimum brought them right out again?" Ingrid snorted lightly, shaking her head in Vlad's direction. "Honestly, you're meant to be the Chosen One, and you can't even control your own reflections a year after your Coming of Rage," she gave a tut, "it's pathetic." Vlad didn't respond, but Erin saw him ball his fists at his fingers, fingers digging deep into the palms of his hands to keep him from reacting to Ingrid's barbs. "So, what did Wednesday..." she trailed off, her eyes widening. "Oh, you _didn't_."

"It's not like it had any affect!" Vlad defended himself, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from them all, including Bertrand who didn't seem to know whether to be pleased, angry, proud, or protective. It was, Erin noted, an odd mixture of looks going across the elder vampire's face. "She's an Addams, it'd take more than that to have any chance of changing her," Vlad's tone was so defensive that for a moment Erin found herself blindly agreeing with him and not actually paying any attention to the words he was actually saying. Then what he said sunk in.

"You _bit __**Wednesday**_?!" It came out as far more of a screech than she had in**i**tially thought it would. Not that she was paying any attention to how her voice sounded, she was too shocked by the turn of events. Her boyfriend hadn't just bitten someone, he'd bitten the girl he was apparently 'engaged' too. "What, did she just pull your head to her neck and wouldn't let go until you sunk your fangs in?!" Erin gave a somewhat hysterical laugh, Ingrid edged away from her just slightly. "Because I don't see any other reason you couldn't just keep your fangs in your mouth!" She gave a disgusted tut. "I don't even want to see you right now," she stormed from the room, banging the door loudly behind her. Vlad winced yet again.

"It wasn't just biting, was it?" Ingrid asked. Vlad shifted, but didn't answer. She caught Bertrand's eye and gave a sigh. Oh dear, now this was going to get complicated because of _feelings_. How pathetically teenage of her little brother. Vlad still didn't answer, and Ingrid gave a very irritated sounding sigh. "I can't believe you would be so stupid as to bite Wednesday Addams," she said, giving Vlad a very incredulous look. "Tell me, what's it like being a complete zombie brain?"

"I didn't," Vlad began but found himself unable to continue. "I just," he tried again, finding himself landing once again with the same problem of simply not knowing how to continue. He sighed. "If Wednesday hadn't have wanted to be bitten," he said, "she woud have stopped me." There was silence, as Ingrid and Bertrand just stared at him.

"...Do you realise what you sound like?" Ingrid asked. Vlad nodded.

"Just heard myself right there."

"As long as you know how much of a prat you sound," Ingrid crossed her arms. "So," she asked, "I suppose you're not exactly planning on telling Erin. I mean, you could, but I don't think she'll be the type to be accepting of her boyfriend _sleeping with another girl_." Vlad winced, looking down to the ground, steadily avoiding any eye-contact. Bertrand's hand covered his face, and he let out a long suffering sigh. "What political mess has he gotten himself into now?"

"No, not political," Bertrand replied, "this is the long suffering groan of someone who will need to clean up any type of mess his ... boss gets himself into." Ingrid gave a short, somewhat mocking laugh, as Bertrand rolled his eyes in her direction. Vlad continued to look away from the pair of them. "At least he didn't do anything stupid like ... claim her."

"Heh, yeah," Vlad said, "about that..."

Ingrid and Bertrand both stared.


	9. Erin Makes a Confrontation

Erin had never been more furious and there was only a small part of her that was a bit embarassed that the fury was over that... _witch_ seducing her boyfriend and making her bite her. Yes, she was angry about Vlad biting someone, she thought he knew better than that, he certainly preached as though he did. But having it be her, that stupidly flawless dark beauty who was probably some kind of evil witch who could bespell anyone, even the Grand High Vampire. Her instincts had told her that family were bad news the minute they had shown up at Garside. She hadn't went through years of Slayer training just to throw away paying attention to her instincts because they're meant to be 'friends of the family'. What did that even mean anyway, that the Draculas would ask nicely before draining them all?

Then the thought struck her. Vlad had bitten Wednesday. Forget being angry at the girl, she should be prepared. The girl looked ready to kill anyone on a whim when she was human. Now that she was a vampire there was probably nothing holding her back. Erin snuck quickly to her room, looking around before carefully shifting the floorboard away. Okay, so Vlad may know she was a breather, but no one knew she was a slayer. She could do this, make it seem like it an accident, newly bittens fell into them all the time. Sure, her family would mourn, but surely they'd rather she wasn't an evil soulless creature going round biting the necks of poor innocent people. Then she thought about the type of people the Addamses were and realised they would probably only encourage their daughter to greater evils

Well, not on her watch. She may have failed in her attempts to slay Ingrid back when she had the change – and she was grateful she did, because she got to know Vlad, and she wouldn't like not knowing Vlad – but she wasn't going to let this new vampire run amock. She was a Slayer, part of the Noble family of Slayers. Ryan was gone and now... now it was just her. She had to uphold the family name, she just had to. Looking around herself, she reached down into the shifted floorboard, lifting out the carefully folded up slayer kit that she had concealed there months ago, when she first arrived at the Dracula quarters. She unfolded it, and lifted the stake carefully out of it's resting place.

"I swear," she muttered, "I'll fix this mistake, Vlad. I won't let you live with the guilt."

Looking around quickly again; a slayer never could be too paranoid in a vampire household, she folded the kit away again, replacing it under the loose floorboard, and putting said floorboard back into it's place, pressing down so it wouldn't creak too obviously if stepped on by accident. She stood, concealing the stake by tucking in the back of her jeans and covering it with her top. Not the most perfect of hiding spaces, but she wasn't wearing a skirt, and she did not want to go the thigh holster like some female slayers could rock. She was too nervous about splinters in her legs. She peeled back some of the paper covering the mirror in her room, and gave her face a careful look over. No tear tracks. Good. Her face was a bit flushed, but some foundation would conceal that. She pulled at a strand of hair, trying to neaten it in some way, before sighing and replacing the paper. Right. Just stasis spray to go, and then she could hunt down this witch.

"She's not going to know what bit her."

* * *

><p>Wednesday Addams, at that particular moment, was in a side lounge with her mother, who was holding her hair to the side so that she may inspect the mark of claiming on her daughter's neck. Morticia's fingers lingered over the bite marks, not quite touching them, but already she could feel the power resonating from them. "He has a strong bite," she commented to Wednesday, who gave a solemn nod. Morticia let got of the hair, finger combing till it sat straggly and full. "Darling, not that I'd question your judgement, but are you sure this is what you want?"<p>

"I have always been fond of Vladimir, Mother," Wednesday replied. "It was …. unusual for him to be so dominating towards me, so fierce. I knew never his blood lust could reach such levels." Though her voice remained in its same monotone, to those who knew her well, there was a gleam in Wednesday's eyes. Morticia smiled. It was nice to see her child so … happily miserable. She wouldn't lie and say there hadn't been a hope, when the two were younger, that they might be childhood sweethearts and grow up to be the most unperfect couple to ever terrorise the Earth. Judging by whatever Vlad's performance the previous night had been, Wednesday seemed far warmer to the idea of marriage this morning. And it was looking to be such a dreary day as well, perfect conditions for wedding planning.

The door opened. "Ah, Erin, isn't it? Do come and join us for some hemlock tea," Morticia offered, that same closed mouth smile on face face, as she gestured to the tea set sitting beside her on the small table. Erin didn't seem to hear her, stepping into the room and glaring directly at Wednesday, ignoring Morticia's presence altogether. "Dear?" she asked politely.

"You made my boyfriend bite you." Erin spat at Wednesday. Wednesday smoothed the skirt of her dress and sat down. "I know he bit you, he told me! We don't have secrets in our relationship!"

"Then you'll know it was not just a bite," Wednesday looked up, bored of Erin's being in the room. "It was a mark of claiming."

"A mark of... claiming?" Erin could vaguely recall being told about this in Slayer theory classes,but the actual details of it refused to come to her mind at that present moment and she knew it was important somehow. There was that itch in her brain when she couldn't recall something important. It irritated her, but not as much as this girl did. "What do you mean, a mark of claiming?"

Wednesday shifted aside her collar, showing off the deep bite marks. "He was very passionate about it. I hope he left bruises."

"But claiming can only happen through..." oh now she remembered. Erin felt sick. "You slept with my boyfriend."

Wednesday blinked. "He has been mine since we were children. I don't remember revoking my claim. Last night, he reinstated his." There was another silence, and Erin's heart felt like it was breaking.

"You actually _like_ him, don't you?" she asked. "Not as a friend but..."

"I am his, as he is mine," Wednesday answered. "Do have some tea."


	10. The Pull

Vlad wasn't sure what was meant to happen next. Erin had stormed out of the room, Ingrid and Bertrand were furious at him for doing something so completely moronically brain dead like claiming Wednesday Addams, and really all he wanted was a hot shower and to slink into his coffin for a sleep. The shower he could have, the sleep, not so much. A glance at the clock told him that if he didn't get a move on he would be late for his first class of the day. Grumbling slightly to himself as he pulled on his uniform, an annoyingly chirpy little voice in his head kept reminding him that he _liked_ lessons, and he _liked _learning. Stupid annoyingly chirpy little voice. It was too early in the day to deal with voices in his head; that wasn't due till the training session with Bertrand that evening probably.

He made it to his first class just as the bell rang, and was fortunate that for once the teacher was running late. He slid into his seat, and rested his forehead against the cool desk. Maybe, if he was lucky, the teacher wouldn't make the 10 minute rule and he could sneak back up to his coffin for this class and his free period next. If he was lucky. It wasn't likely, but he could hope. The desk was nice and cool against his forehead and that was reassuring in its way. He could feel his eyes slipping closed. Maybe he could grab just a couple of minutes...

"Hey, Count, that's some mark you've got there!" The voice of Nick Briggs broke into what was going to be a few blissful minutes of silence. Vlad held back the groan that always wanted to come when Nick spoke. Very much a member of the upper middle class, Nick tried to be anything but. Actually, there was a fair number of students like that at Garside if Vlad was forced to be honest on it, but there was something about Nick that truly irritated. "That'd be from Erin, right? Always the quiet ones," he gave Vlad a knowing nudge. Vlad did not roll his eyes, but he really felt like doing it. "Anyway, that Wednesday, pretty hot." Vlad looked round, one eyebrow raised. Nik didn't take the silent warning. "She seeing anyone?"

It was a harmless enough question. It was entirely a harmless question. It made Vlad's blood boil (metaphorically), and he could feel his eyes turning black and his fangs wanting to lower. "She's taken," it came out in a growl. Anyone who knew Vlad would have taken this as a most important warning sign. Nick,unfortunately, was not so astue.

"Oh, come on, you can put a good word in for me, eh, mate?"

"_**She's not for others to take!**_" Vlad snarled, fingers gripping on to the desk so tightly that parts of it just broke off in his hands. Nick stepped back, staring with wide eyes, as the rest of the class turned to look at Vlad who looked … well ready to cause someone some major harm. It made no sense, he was the quiet son of the school governor. He kept to himself, and dated that nice Erin. Until he showed up with that goth girl the other day, well frankly, he wasn't really all that interesting. And now he was looking ready to hurt someone.

Silence reigned over the classroom. Vlad looked around, dropped the pieces of desk on to what was left of it, picked up his bag, and left the room, pushing by the teacher and ignoring said teacher's protests that he really must come back to class; it was getting far too near the exams to play truant! Vlad didn't listen. He could hear a steady heartbeat pounding in his head. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

_Wednesday_. He had to find her

* * *

><p>"Vlad? Why aren't you at classes?" Bertrand was sat at the desk just by the door to the Dracula quarters, and was surprised to see his student back from school so early. Usually he insisted on going to all of his classes, even those which Bertrand could teach him far better, and with much more accuracy than the textbooks allowed for. Apparently this was considered 'cheating'. Bertrand didn't actually see the cheating aspect, surely getting primary source material was still encouraged in History classes? It was mentioned in the textbooks when he was forced to sub; but Vlad still considered using Bertrand's first hand knowledge as cheating. Honestly, the Chosen One was a very confusing being. "Vlad?"<p>

"Huh?" Vlad turned, looking at Bertrand as though he hardly saw him, blinking a few times before he seemed to recognise his tutor. "Oh, Bertrand, hi, I was just..." he trailed off, looking around the quarters with a restless air. "Listen, have you seen Wednesday anywhere?" Bertrand looked carefully at Vlad. He could see the slight darkening of the eyes, the just holding back the fangs. Garlic. He was hoping that with Wednesday being an Addams this wouldn't happen, but it appeared his hopes were being dashed. "Well?"

"I believe she just took tea with Cousin Morticia," Bertrand answered. "She expressed a desire to go below to the crypt to inspect the coffins." Vlad continued to look around the quarters, and Bertrand would have readily bet he hadn't heard a word he just said.

"Crypt. Right. Thanks." Vlad replied, throwing his school bag into a corner of the room, dropping his tie behind him as he made his way down to the crypt using the back staircases that avoided entering the main school area of the building. It was as though there was blood pounding in his head, repeating Wednesday's name over and over until all he could think was a continuous stream of her name and he could smell her blood and just everything surrounding him was _Wednesday_ and he _needed_ her. He entered the crypt quietly, but she still heard him.

"Vladimir," she tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly, "you're skipping classes." There was silence for a moment, as she lay her hand flat on top of a coffin lid. "Good. Your classmate are inspid and lack any sort of creativity, they would drain you." She turned to look at the coffin closer, pointedly turning her back on Vlad as he stood in the doorway and stared at her back. Her hair was arranged just so, revealing a flash of perfectly pale neck that he was drawn to.

He was more drawn to her than he realised, his arms wrappd aroun her waist with him having no memory of stepping forward. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "We'll have a coffin like this, if you want. Lined with silk, black if its to your tastes," he murmured, pressing closer, feeling the still steady beat of Wednesday's heart beating against his chest. He risked it, and pressed a kiss against her neck, his mind racing for things she would like.

"Shackles attached?"

"The strongest we can find." Wednesday gave a rare, terrifying smile.

Vlad had never seen anything so beautiful as she leaned in to kiss him.


	11. The Crypt

Erin had been looking for Vlad all through the school day. She hadn't wanted to go to school, not after that conversation with Wednesday, but she felt like she needed the mind numbing distraction that only double maths could provide. It wasn't until lunch-time that she heard that Vlad had stormed out of his first period class and hadn't been seen since. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry in the pit of her stomach. Something serious must have happened; Vlad would never ditch class unless he had a serious reason to. She couldn't skip her last two classes however, she was doing really badly in them and couldn't afford any chance to try to improve her grades. She did still hold some dreams of going off to university to gain a degree of some sort; she just hadn't put as much thought into it lately. Since she started dating Vlad, actually, if she was to really think on it. Not that she did, she loved Vlad after all, and their relationship was going to prove breather-vampire relations could work. Yes, she might be keeping her being a slayer from him, but … she would find the right time to tell him, she would.

As soon as lessons were over, she ran up to the Dracula quarters, mentally preparing herself for the worst. She flung to the door open, and came across the sight of Wolfie and Pubert playing with a minature gulliotine. Erin didn't even want to think on where they might have gotten their hands on that, let alone why they were being allowed to _play_ with it. Honestly, vampires and Addamses had no idea of what was appropriate for children. "Wolfie!" she called. The young half-vampire, half-werewolf looked up, tilting his head in Erin's direction, silently questioning her with wide eyes. She didn't shiver, but no doubt he had picked that up from the bad influence that was Pubert Addams. "Where's Vlad?" she asked.

Wolfie gave a shrug, turning back to the gulliotine. "I dunno," he answered. He gave a rub of his nose, "but he went down to the crypt ages ago. Not seen him since," he added in a disinterested tone of voice. He clapped happily when Pubert decapitated one of the toy soliders they had found lying around and once again, Erin found herself realising just how _odd_ her life was now. Shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thought, she continued on through the quarters, making her way down to the crypt. She had no idea as to just why Vlad would choose to go down there; he usually avoided it as much as he could, considering it a trappings of what he called the old ways of vampirism. Erin loved the way he kept looking to the future, wanting to improve things for... Well, not really for vampires so much, but rather the benefits that would come for everyday, normal people. If only more vampires could be like Vlad, but she knew that was impossible. He was one of a kind, sweet, sensible, reliable. She was sure now that Wednesday had been lying about his sleeping with her. Vlad wouldn't betray her like that. They were too important to each other to just causually dismiss the other's trust.

Then she saw Wednesday sitting on a chair in the crypt, reading what appeared to be a collected edition of the works of Shakespeare. Leatherbound, but Eriin had come to except such high quality from the books that Count Dracula kept in his library. "You're a fan of Shakespeare?" She did her best to make her voice sound causual, almost disinterested in an interested sort of way. "Didn't really see him as your sort of thing."

"I'm a fan of many classics," Wednesday answered without stopping in her reading. "Hamlet happens to be among my favourite of his comedies." Erin blinked. Wasn't Hamlet a tragedy? She opened her mouth to say as such, but – again without looking up – Wednesday continued to speak. "If you're looking for Vladimir, I suggest coming back in a few hours once the sun has set." She closed the book, laying it in her lap and looking up. "The sun tired him out."

"Vlad doesn't usually sleep during the day," Erin's voice was hesistant though – to be fair, she had caught him having quick naps in the afternoon, but she had always assumed that was because of the time consuming schedule he was on between school and his various lessons in … whatever it was he needed to be the best vampire leader he could be with Bertrand. It was never usually longer than an hour at a time though; it was as though his body was used to surviving on as little rest as possible. For him to be asleep now... "Is he sick?"

Wednesday gave a look up, and Erin felt a chill in the back of her neck. "That depends on exactly what you mean."

"I... I don't understand," Erin frowned. "What do you mean … it depends on what I mean?" She took a cautious step towards the girl who, she was fairly certain, was sizing her up as some sort of competition. Not that there was one. Vlad was her boyfriend. He may have agreed to pretend to be engaged to this girl to get them out of arranged marriages, but that was because they were friends. Had she been of a clearer mind, Erin may have noticed that she was reducing Wednesday to an enemy status without really getting to know the girl simply because she believed the girl held a threat to her relationship, and that would have been against her feminist prinicples. It is here that it must be noted that teenage girls are, like their male counterparts, slaves to their emotions. "That makes no sense."

"On the contrary," Wednesday replied, "it makes perfect sense." She stood, placing the book on the chair, clasping her hands in front of her and stepping forward. "Do you mean to ask if Vlad is physically unwell? If that is so, then the answer is no." The girl stepped forwards again, and Erin didn't notice herself stepping backwards. "If you are referring to his mental health, well, then it's obvious that Vladimir suffers from many aliments that have been caused by events that have happened over his life. When combined with his recent merging with his one thousand reflections, it's arguable that some form of multiple personality disorder may appear. If not that, then surely a delightful head torture." There was an almost smirk on her face, and that slightest twitch terrified Erin, even if she didn't know why. "As regards to anything else that could make him sick … well, that's entirely a matter of personal taste."

"Vlad doesn't have …" Erin paused, not entirely sure she could finish that setence upon the realisation that this was the most she'd heard the other girl talk to anyone other than a family member or Vlad since she had arrived. Was that really only a couple of days ago? Somehow it felt like months. "Vlad's - " she began again, only to find herself being interrupted.

"Awake, and not really in favour of people talking about him while he's sleeping nearby. It's kind of rude." Erin didn't jump but noted with some shame that she didn't hear the coffin open. She was getting too used to these noises, it was a bad trait in a slayer. Even if she wasn't sure she was a … No, she was a slayer, it was just that Vlad had opened her eyes to the possibility that maybe some vampires just wanted to live a quiet, peaceful life. That was all. Think first, then stake if proven to be a danger. That's all she'd learnt from Vlad. "And Wed, seriously, multiple personality disorder? It's just me up here." He tapped his forehead. "Yeah, I've got a dark side, but..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders as if to say who hasn't.

"Wed_nesday_," was the Addams girl only comment, eyes narrowing only slightly. "I do prefer my full name, Vladimir."

"And I've told you that it's Vlad, not _Vladimir_. Hi Erin," he added, turning in Erin's direction and giving a grin. "Don't usually see you down in the crypt," he added conversationally, as he began to pull himself out of the coffin he had been resting in. He stood, and stretched, and didn't notice that the action had drawn the attention of both girls in the room, though both would deny it if the other questioned. In a surprisingly fluid motion he jumped from the coffin and landed steadily on his feet, stretching his arms out as he stood on the ground. "I swear, the old-fashioned coffins are just … cramped."

"Why didn't you go for a sleep in your own room if you were tired?" Erin asked. Vlad looked at her, blinking.

"Because I was talking to Wednesday," he explained simply. "By the way, you didn't need to sit beside me while I rested," he added, turning to the girl in question. Wednesday simply looked back with her usual emotionless stare.

"And let you be prey to anyone who may walk in?" Erin frowned, could this girl know...? "If anyone is going to kill you, Vladimir, I shall be the one to do it. It's my right as your wife-to-be, after all."

Oh, yeah, Erin was hoping to forget about _that_.


End file.
